


Never Could Say Just What it Was

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Broken Families, Drinking, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 11:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: The instant Sombra sits down next to him at the bar in Castilo, McCree says, "You knew," and she already knows it's going to be a long night. She makes eye contact with the bartender, and almost instantly, there's a glass of whiskey in front of him. He mumbles his thank you– he was never one to let a thing like rending betrayal make him forget his manners– but just drinks, staring straight ahead, not talking.





	Never Could Say Just What it Was

The instant Sombra sits down next to him at the bar in Castilo, McCree says, "You knew," and she already knows it's going to be a long night. She makes eye contact with the bartender, and almost instantly, there's a glass of whiskey in front of him. He mumbles his thank you– he was never one to let a thing like rending betrayal make him forget his manners– but just drinks, staring straight ahead, not talking. 

 

"You pissed?" she asks, finally, and he snorts. 

 

"Who're you askin' about?"

 

"Me, I guess. I took it as a given you were pissed at him." McCree nods at that, and fiddles with his hat on the counter. 

 

"Guess I'm not. Not really," he says after a minute. "We're just drinking buddies, right? And he's your boss. Can't imagine any way it'd be worth the risk."

 

"Yeah," she says, as casually as possible, trying not to betray her relief. "And you know. I thought there was a decent chance it'd never come up."

 

The bartender hands her her mezcal. She thanks them and drinks. She thinks back to the first time she ran into McCree here. She had done her research, so she recognized him immediately. He had his ear to the ground, so he knew who she was. They sat and talked in loaded statements until McCree had taken his efforts to keep pace with her too far, and passed out, spilling tequila on his nice hat. The next night, they settled for McCree telling her about his bounties and her making fun of their ineptitude. McCree stuck to his glass of whiskey from there on out. 

 

Sometimes she thinks about bringing up Gabe, testing the waters, and then the bartender calls her in the middle of the night, asking her to pick him up, or he’ll sheepishly ask if she knows a place where he could lay low for a while. And so she never really feels like adding to his troubles. Not when Gabe is so oblivious as to how he’s added to hers.

 

She realizes McCree hasn't responded. She shoots him a worried glance and he catches her looking. 

 

"So he's not... recruiting me, then?" he asks. 

 

"No," Sombra says. She frowns. "I thought you'd be happy about that."

 

"Well, it sure does indicate that my life's on the right track." The bartender muffles a laugh but he doesn't seem to notice, just folds the brim of his hat back and forth. "But, well. I don't know." He takes another long drink. "Would've been nice to get a call, at least."

 

Sombra laughs and he cracks a smile. "How do you think that would have gone, man? 'Hey Jesse, I'm alive but I'm going to be spending most of my time killing our former coworkers for now on. I'm going to try to keep things from getting awkward and just assume you're not interested. Also I'm proud of you, son, and I've always secretly admired your fashion choices.'"

 

"You're a riot, you know that?" For a second, Sombra thinks she's gone to far, but McCree's still smiling. "And anyway. You're one to talk."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"Well, look. Reyes, I'm not saying he's got a type, but– orphan, grew up in a gang, highly skilled, kind of an asshole–" 

 

"I'm a ghost in the system. If I killed you here, no one would breathe a word about it."

 

"I'm just saying, the pot shouldn't be calling the kettle's parental issues–"

 

"Sombra," the bartender says wearily, eyeing her hip. She leaves her gun in its holster and settles for cuffing McCree upside the head. 

 

"He's my boss, dipshit," she says, as he chuckles in spite of her attack. "And I don't know what he was like in Blackwatch, but I imagine he had some semblance of his shit together there. Now I'm the one looking out for him, most of the time."

 

"Maybe," McCree says. "But well, if we're gonna state our defense. Shanghaiing a kid into a black ops group ain't the most fatherly thing I've ever heard."

 

"Fair enough," she says. He’s right. Gabe can repeat and repeat "no one left behind" all he likes, like it’s a magic spell. Even he isn’t broken enough a person that he’d order an actual child of his into combat. And even he’s dutiful enough a soldier that he’ll always give that order to McCree and Shimada and Widowmaker and her. 

 

The difference is, she had known that going in, and McCree had to learn on the job. But still. She doesn’t really feel like actually making it a competition, not when winning is this empty. McCree raises his glass and she raises hers, and they drink.  

 

"So what are you going to do now?" she asks. He spreads his arms magnanimously. 

 

"Don't see any reason to change things up now."

 

"So you're not going after him," she says. He looks down at the counter and snorts. 

 

"I'm done fighting Reyes’s battles for him. I’m not a soldier. This ain't my war."

 

"I'm not a soldier either," Sombra responds. "But I don't think we pick the war, I think the war picks us."

 

McCree doesn't say anything to that. Just drinks, and Sombra does too. 

 

"How is he?" McCree asks after a moment. He's watching her and something in his face hurts. He's not hopeful, that's something she could snuff out quick enough. He looks a little afraid, is the thing, and she's not quite sure what to do with that. 

 

"He's... alive," she says slowly. "Like I said. I don't know what he was like before, not really. I mean I read his emails and shit, don't get me wrong–," McCree snorts, "–but I don't know how he stacks up to how he was before." She plays with her glass and stares at the rows of bottles in front of her. "He doesn't do much," she says. "Doesn't talk much. Spends most of his time by himself. Sometimes I can get him to actually do something with other humans, but not always." She turns back to McCree and his face is inscrutable now. "He's angry. I know that much. And sad. But you knew that."

 

"I knew him before," McCree says quietly. "And he was like that since Captain Amari died. So he just got a new look, I reckon." He tips his glass back and forth a little. "Don't want you to get the wrong idea, now. They weren't a thing."

 

"Don't insult me."

 

"But he loved her," McCree continues, like she hadn't said anything. "I know that much about him. I think. So if you want to compare... there's that."

 

Sombra thinks about that for a while, about how she didn't see Gabe for a week after the Shrike showed up, and how when he came back he acted like nothing had happened. McCree hasn't told her anything she doesn't already know, to be honest. But he doesn't need to know that Gabe's love isn't necessarily redeeming. 

 

She thinks back to the seventeen year old in the interrogation room. That might not be anything he doesn't already know, either. She clears her throat. 

 

"So. Now that that's all out in the open. You got any dirt on him I can use to make his life... well, more miserable?"

 

McCree blinks, then laughs. "He fuckin' hates spicy food, but will never admit it. One time, Genji told him that the authentic way to eat ramen was with five tablespoons of wasabi. He was practically crying at the end of the bowl."

 

"That's amazing," Sombra says, smiling and shaking her head. "He can't eat food anymore, though."

 

That sobers McCree up and she feels a twinge of guilt again. "Yeah he was... something else, out there."

 

Sombra looks over, with her cybernetic eyes, at McCree, tapping on the laminated wood with his robotic fingers. She stands up. She doesn't feel like having this conversation right now. 

 

"Thanks for your help, McCree," she says. "But I gotta run." He doesn't respond to that and she frowns and slaps him on the back. "I'll be back soon, though. So save me a seat." She turns and starts walking to the door. 

 

"I meant what I said, by the way," he says, without turning around. "You can tell Reyes I'm not goin' hunting for him."

 

She stops. "What?"

 

"This is why you're here, ain't it?" McCree asks. Sombra rolls her eyes. 

 

"Believe it or not, McCree, I know people in this town other than you."

 

"But that's why you're here with me, now. He told you to check on me." Sombra walks back to the bar and flicks his ear. 

 

"Believe it or not, McCree, I actually care about you."

 

"Right." He rubs his ear absently and stares at the bar. "Well. Night then."

 

"Don't pass out here again." She catches the bartender's eye as she backs out. They sigh and nod. They hand McCree another whiskey, and she leaves. 

 

-

 

"He shouldn't drink so much," is all Gabe says when she reports back to him. She looks at him dubiously. 

 

"Right. And you shouldn't murder so much. We all have our vices." Gabe laughs humorlessly and taps at the monitor on his desk. 

 

"Fair enough," he says. "Thank you, Sombra."

 

It's a dismissal, but she doesn't feel like leaving. She leans forward in her chair, onto his desk. 

 

"So like, if you eat people who have just eaten spicy food, do you get a tummy ache or something?" Gabe shuts the projected monitor with a snap and stares at her in surprise, then shakes his head and laughs, genuinely this time. 

 

"He hasn't changed a bit," he says to himself. 

 

There's a fondness in his voice that Sombra hasn't really heard before, so she doesn't call him on what he said. Gabe wants a lot of things he can't have, and he knows it. He doesn't need her pointing out another one. He doesn’t need to know that his love wasn’t necessarily redeeming.

 

So instead she just says, "That a yes, then? You want me to start interviewing folks on their dietary history before you kill them?” Gabe scowls at her and she grins. “Come on, boss, I’m just trying to look out for you."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @tacticalgrandma if you want to talk to me there.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world to me <3


End file.
